Friday, 10 July 2015

IS GOD A FACEBOOK HOAX?

If
there is one thing we Christians excel at it’s shaping God to our own purposes.

We did it in the Crusades as we pillaged Asian cities, massacred Jews and
Muslims and appropriated foreign property. We did it when we colonised ‘heathen’
lands, carrying a bible in one hand and a gun in the other. We did it when we
kept quiet as our Jewish friends were sent to concentration camps and we did it
when racial discrimination was legalised in South Africa.

We manufacture a God who sees it all from our
point of view and, when everything goes pear-shaped, we remould him, assuming
our right to redemption and forgiveness. But we seldom make amends.

I
suspect that the worst shaping of God is not in cataclysmic historical events but
in the daily detail of our lives. In what the nuns used to call our “besetting
sins.” It is also in the way we use
religion.

Looking
back on my previous blogs I realise I seem to have hurtled down the Anglican
path at a great and fairly uncomplicated pace. Alpha, a spiritual director, an
Open Door Retreat, Eucharist on Wednesdays and Sundays, two modules towards a
theology degree, new Christian friends. (There must be a Brownie badge for all
this).

They should have put me on a TV so I could declare “I’ve found Jesus.”

Fact
is, I hadn’t really.

As an A type personality
I am very competitive and self-critical. I’m always setting
goals, my life lacks balance and I have to watch my blood pressure. Besides,
you may remember, I’d emerged as an ENTJ on the Enneagram scale – a not so
likeable ‘Commander’.

What I was doing, to a large extent, was jumping though the hoops
and revelling in the spiritual and intellectual exercises - striving for A’s in
my assignments. I was also finding
comfort in the close to Catholic ritual – my childhood comfort blanket and the
God I was shaping was a mirror image of me and my opinions.

There was also my other life: my clients as well as a social and
family circle that just wasn’t into religion.

There must have been a whole choir of angels groaning on my
behalf.

Yes, I’d incorporated a spiritual dimension into my life. Much as
I would have had I taken yoga seriously but I kid you and myself if I lay claim
to a personal relationship with God at that stage. I was far more tuned into
the adage “God helps those who help themselves”, than to total submission.

I still thank God for my exceptional Spiritual Director. Trained by Fr Gerard Hughes, author of God of Surprises, she, never criticised,
always gently questioned and very wisely suggested a three day retreat at a
local Anglican Convent.

My retreat
director was a wonderful monk, Father Andrew Norton. He belonged to the Community
of the Resurrection monastery across the road.

Besides being wise and practical, he was a diabetic who loved to gobble the fluffy jam scones the sisters served for tea.

Deeply committed to the training and the supervision of
Spiritual Directors, he was also responsible for introducing the Open Door
Retreat in South African Anglican circles.
He was just what I needed at that stage.
Instead of gentle encouraging pats on the back he got me to take a long
hard look at myself and at the Church. Fr Andrew was a realist not a romantic. It was he who warned how deeply Church can
hurt. He was right.

One of the exercises he gave me is one I still value and
slip into today. I was directed to slowly walk around the beautiful convent
garden five times. Each time focusing on one of my five senses – sight,
hearing, smell, touch, taste. Thanking
God for what they had meant to me since birth and using them to appreciate the
garden. It is a great way to meditate on the Creator and Creation.

The gateway to the beautiful convent garden

My Damascus Road moment was my meditation on my sense of sight
– what it had meant to me since birth. On the walk I inspected an old tree, its
shape, its leaves rustling in the breeze. Becoming aware of birds among its top
branches, the sunlight peeping through. The bark was rough. I moved closer, the
tiniest insects came into focus. And then it happened. As I peeped behind a fairly
loose piece of bark I spotted a cocoon and watched spell-bound as a butterfly
slowly emerged.

Now decades later, I can still draw on that wondrous image
when I’m stressed or distressed. It draws me into the mystery of God the power
of faith. That moment when you choose red or black and place your bet on a roulette
table. You don’t have all the answers but you are willing to take a chance. It
was the day I met the ‘God of Surprises’.

I wish I could tell you that I’ve never had a moments
doubt since that meditation in the convent garden. But it is a compass point
for me when I feel lost, in those moments when I wonder if God isn’t on a par
with those awful Facebook hoaxes.

1 comment:

Thank you Loraine, I really enjoyed that. Yes, I too have been surprised by God on a number of occasions. Once while walking on a beach near East London, I felt that God was speaking to me through the waves breaking onto the beach. What came to me in my mind was, "This is what my love is like. It keeps on coming and you cannot hold it back'. It will continue to wash over you for all time" I will always remember that.